Friends and Enemies
by ravenclaw123
Summary: Starts eight years after Hogwarts. Voldemort is dead. Ron and Hermione are getting married. Ron and Harry are no longer friends. When Hermione's captured by a rising dark wizard, will they be able to forgive and forget?
1. New Beginnings and Bitter Memories

**A/N: This is my first fanfic so I'm hoping it's not too horrible. Reviews will be much appreciated, I won't continue the story if there isn't any interest. And don't worry, I'll most probably make full explanations of characters in the next chapter. Chapters may also be longer in the future, this is kind of an introduction so I couldn't put too much in.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of Harry Potter though I very much wish I did.**

* * *

At the sound of a knock, Harry looked up from the piece of parchment on which he had been writing a note to the Minister of Magic.

"Come in," he said wearily, putting his quill down on his desk. The visitor, a brown haired woman of around twenty-five, slowly opened the door. "Hermione! This is a pleasant surprise," Harry exclaimed, getting up from behind his desk to embrace his best friend of fourteen years.

"How are you Harry?" asked Hermione, as they both sat down, Harry behind his desk and Hermione in front of it.

"I'm good. Busy dealing with dark wizards as usual. You know how it is," Harry said, smiling. Hermione looked over at him with concern. He had been working hard, she could tell. There were dark circles under Harry's eyes that seemed to have found a permanent dwelling on his face.

"Why don't you take a vacation, Harry? You look exhausted," said Hermione.

"There's just so much to do around here, Hermione. Malfoy does his share of course but it never seems to end. All the old death eaters seem determined to take Voldemort's place," Harry sighed. "But anyway you have yet to tell me, to what do you I owe this pleasure?"

At this question, Hermione looked rather sheepish. "Am I not allowed to visit my best friend just to say hi? I haven't seen you in so long and—" Hermione trailed off at the suspicious look on Harry's face. "And well uh, I just wanted to tell you that uh well, Ron proposed," she finished, blushing furiously.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

Seemingly encouraged by Harry's composure, Hermione continued, "Yes and well, we're thinking about setting the date a month from today. We'll send you an official invitation of course but I wanted to let you know informally first because we'd love it if you could come."

Harry stiffened. "_We?_ Are you sure about that Hermione?"

"Harry, you're our best friend. Why wouldn't we want you there? Our wedding can't happen without you. You have to be Ron's best man and—"

Harry interrupted her, "Does Ron know you're here?" He spoke quietly but the sadness in his voice was overwhelming.

"Well—yes—in a sense—Ron really wants you to be there," Hermione finished lamely.

"Oh really? And is that why he's sitting right next to you asking me to be his best man at his wedding?" asked Harry, his words deep with sarcasm.

"But Harry—"

"But what Hermione?" Harry asked, springing to his feet. "What excuse are you going to give for him this time? He hates me and that's all there is to it."

"He doesn't hate you."

"Ok then, he deeply despises me," said Harry, getting angrier by the minute.

"Ron could never hate you. You're the best friend he ever had and—"

"Well gee if this is how he treats his best friend, I'd hate to see how he treats his enemies."

"Harry, just give him a chance."

"It isn't about giving him a chance Hermione. He hates me. And there's nothing I can to change that. He blames me for everything—for something that wasn't even my fault."

"It was hard on him Harry. His heart wanted to find someone to blame and you seemed like the only option. It made sense to him at the time."

"At the time? Then explain to me why he still hates me for it."

"It affected him a lot, Harry. It still does…"

"And me? I'm just dandy without her, aren't I? Do you think I go one bloody day without thinking about her? Who the hell does he think he is, thinking that he's the only one suffering?" Harry sank down in his chair with one bitter tear rolling down his face. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Harry—"

"I'm not going to go to a wedding where the groom hates me," Harry said quietly.

"If that's the way you want it." Hermione sighed and stood up. She knew the conversation was over. She was about to open the door to leave when Harry spoke.

"And Hermione?" he said in the same quiet voice. Hermione looked over at him to acknowledge that she'd heard him. "Congratulations." She nodded and left the room.

When she walked out of the room and down the corridor, she saw Draco Malfoy about to enter his office. "Malfoy," said Hermione, acknowledging him with a nod.

"Granger—ah or shall I say Mrs. Weasley?" Malfory asked with a sneer.

Hermione narrowed her eyebrows and frowned. "We just got engaged last night. How could you possibly know about it already, Malfoy?"

"I have my ways," Malfoy said slyly.

"The only person I've told is—Harry." Hermione's frown deepened.

"Amazingly enough, they teach you quite a few skills in auror training that come in handy in unexpected areas. Several methods of eavesdropping for example," Malfoy said, smiling devilishly.

Hermione put her hands on her hips and proceeded to turn red with anger, her hair threatening to frizz into the bushy mess of days past. "How dare you eavesdrop on a private conversation between Harry and I? You are a filthy git who wouldn't know manners if they slapped you in the arse. You have no respect for anyone's privacy and—"

Malfoy interrupted her tirade by saying, "Granger, as much as I would _love_ to hear the rest of your lecture on privacy and the various names I'm sure you must be itching to call me, I really have far better things to do." He opened the door to his office but before going in he said, "I'd watch that temper if I were you, Granger, or you might just turn into that dumpy woman Weasley likes to call mum." He paused. "On the other hand, you'll fit right in with your new family then won't you?" And with that comment, Malfoy smirked and slammed the door in Hermione's face.

Hermione was left staring at the door, breathing heavily and still beet red with anger. She took a couple of deep breaths and forced herself to calm down. She couldn't believe she'd gotten so angry. Then again Malfoy did always have the ability to set her off like that. Draco Malfoy was and always would be an infuriating git. Sighing, Hermione took one backwards glance at Harry's office door and proceeded to walk out of auror headquarters.

She walked slowly towards the lifts, not really paying attention to what she was doing. She was deep in thought. Overall, she would say her talk with Harry had gone as anticipated. She hadn't really expected Harry to agree to come to the wedding. It had been a worth a shot anyway. Initially, Hermione had thought that time would fix everything; but the rift between Harry and Ron had only gotten bigger through the years. Hermione sighed again as she passed the area in the atrium where the Fountain of Magical Brethren used to stand. She couldn't believe she'd ever thought the fight between Harry and Ron back in fourth year at Hogwarts had been bad. It paled in comparison to the way they had become now. As Hermione reached the apparition area, she desperately hoped that Harry would come to her wedding despite his problems with Ron.

In his office, Harry was slumped on the floor, sobbing. "Why did you leave me? It isn't fair!" he shouted, sending another sneakoscope crashing to the floor with his wand. "I should have been able to save you. Accio picture!" A picture frame came flying towards him and he reached out and caught it swiftly. Harry looked down at the picture, running his fingers over the surface. "You should be here with me." He thrust the frame to the floor and the glass shattered. "You should be here—to see your brother and your best friend get married!"

In the frame on the floor, a beautiful girl with red hair and brown eyes was scowling furiously at the broken glass around her.


	2. Breakfast and Breakins

**A/N: R&R please!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and if I did…well…the list is rather long so I'll spare you. **

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Hermione disapparted from the Ministry of Magic and apparated again at the top of Stoatshead Hill. Throwing out her arms to regain her balance, she began to walk down the hill towards the heart of the village. Ottery St. Catchpole had been a predominantly muggle village in the past. Eight years ago, when dementors became a common appearance and death eaters were launching muggle assaults everyday, most of the residents had fled. Voldemort had been dead for four years now but still the muggles had not returned. These days, the village was inhabited by only a few wizard families.

Reaching the bottom of the hill, Hermione turned to the right and walked down a street called Wiltshire Way. "Morning Hermione!" called Lavender Finnigan from outside of her house, where she had been watering her petunias. Lavender had recently gotten married to Seamus Finnigan and they had moved into a house in the village just two weeks ago.

"Good morning Lavender. How are you?" asked Hermione with a smile.

"I'm good. Isn't it lovely out today? The rain last night really helped out my petunias," replied Lavender.

"Your garden's beautiful Lavender. I keep telling Ron to plant a garden of his own but he just says Herbology at Hogwarts was enough gardening to last him a lifetime," Hermione said laughing.

"You should just plant it yourself. I mean you do practically live there," teased Lavender. "When are you two lovebirds tying the knot anyway?"

Hermione blushed. "Well, actually—" she hesitated, not sure whether she should tell Lavender about her and Ron's engagement just yet. Deciding that she might as well, she continued, "Ron proposed last night."

"Oh Hermione! That's so exciting! Congratulations!" exclaimed Lavender, pulling Hermione into a tight hug.

"Thanks Lavender! We're planning to set the date about a month from now. You and Seamus have to come."

"Of course we'll come! Oh Hermione, you have to let me help you find a wedding dress! And help you plan everything!"

"Oh trust me, I can use all the help I can get," said Hermione. "But listen, I'll floo you later. I want to get breakfast ready for Ron before he wakes up."

"Alright, see you later Hermione."

"Bye Lavender!"

Hermione walked a little farther down the street before turning left onto Bagshot Lane. Strolling a few houses down, she stopped at a small one story house and walked up the lawn to the front door. She took a key out of her cloak, stuck it into the keyhole, and turned. Opening the door, Hermione walked into a living room that had parchment and books strewn everywhere.

Ron and Harry had bought the house together seven years ago, after Mr. Weasley had been murdered by a death eater. Mrs. Weasley was devastated by his death and Ron couldn't bear to leave her without any real protection. Harry and Ron were roommates for three years; but after Ginny's death four years ago, their friendship crumbled and Harry moved out. They hadn't spoken a word to each other since.

Glancing at the kitchen clock, Hermione saw that it was already ten. She went into Ron's room to check if he was awake but found him sprawled out on his stomach, asleep with his mouth wide open. She smiled and felt a sudden surge of affection for her fiancée as she watched him sleep. He was everything she could have ever wanted and more.

Ron and Hermione had been together since their seventh year at Hogwarts, though their feelings for each other had started developing far before then. After Ginny's death, their relationship had gone through a rough time, mostly because of the rift between Harry and Ron. But somehow Ron and Hermione had survived through it all and had gotten closer through the years. The two of them generally avoided the topic of Harry when they were with each other.

Hermione had started teaching Arithmancy at Hogwarts three years ago, after the school had reopened following the death of Voldemort. She lived in the castle during the week but mostly stayed at Ron's house on the weekends. Ron, on the other hand, was manager for the quidditch team the Chudley Cannons. During Voldemort's reign, Ron had helped the Order in planning strategic attacks against the death eaters. After the final war, however, the Chudley Cannons, impressed by Ron's work with the Order, offered him a position as their manager. Ron graciously accepted, of course. The Chudley Cannons, after all, had always been his favorite team.

Tearing herself away from watching Ron sleep, Hermione went into the kitchen to make some breakfast. With one flick of her wand, she mixed together the ingredients for the pancake batter; with another flick, she set a frying pan on the stove; and with the last flick, she started a fire under the pan. Just as she was getting ready to pour the batter, Ron crept up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. "Good morning 'Mione," he murmured into her hair.

"Morning sleepy head. Want some pancakes?" asked Hermione, giving him a quick kiss but promptly making a face of disgust at his morning breath. "Ew Ron, go brush your teeth first!"

"Yes mum," Ron replied teasingly. He left the kitchen to go to the bathroom and came back a few minutes later with fresh breath and a clean shaven face. Hermione had finished making the pancakes and Ron helped her set the table so they could eat. They ate in silence for a few minutes, both of them savoring the morning and each other's company.

Finally, Hermione broke the silence. "Ron, have you thought about who all you want to invite to our wedding?"

"Aer phamliez oph caurze," replied Ron through a mouthful of pancake.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Sorry Ron, I didn't quite catch that," she said sarcastically.

Ron swallowed. "I said, 'our families of course.'"

"And who else?"

"Er--Dean, Seamus, Justin, you know, the old crowd from Hogwarts. And Lupin, Tonks, Shacklebolt, and anyone else from the Order that's still alive."

Hermione nodded. With a little bit of hesitation, she continued, "And who do you want to be your best man?"

"Fred or Bill, I suppose. Bloody hell, I'm going to have one hell of time trying to choose between them."

Hermione chose her next words carefully. "You wouldn't have to choose between them if you just picked a friend."

"Maybe. But I can't really think of anyone I feel close enough to."

"I can think of one person."

"Who?" asked Ron curiously.

Bracing herself for an angry reaction, she suggested, "Well—uh—what about Harry?"

Ron choked on the bite of pancake he had just put in his mouth. Hermione gasped and started thumping his back to help him get the food out of his airway. After regaining his breath and taking a huge gulp of water, he became angry. "You want a murderer to be my best man Hermione?"

"Ron, he's not a murderer. He's your best friend."

"No friend of mine could ever kill my sister."

"Harry didn't have a choice. You know that."

"Whose side are you on anyway?"

"I'm not on anyone's side. You're my fiancée and Harry's my best friend. I just want you two to be friends again."

"That's never going to happen. And if you cared about me at all, you wouldn't be friends with someone who killed my sister!" Ron was standing up by this point, his pancakes long forgotten. Hermione sat on her chair looking up at him, beginning to forget her side of the argument as she saw how furious he looked. "You have to decide now, Hermione. It's either me or him."

At his words, tears sprang to Hermione's eyes and she fled to Ron's room. Ron's shoulders fell. He knew he had gone too far and he felt horrible. He hated making Hermione cry. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, he followed her into his room. Hermione lay on his bed, sobbing miserably. Ron placed his hand on her shoulder. Without turning around, she said, "How could you say that? You know I love you."

Ron replied, "I'm sorry, Hermione. You're right, I shouldn't have said it. I didn't mean it. I have no right to tell you who you can and can't be friends with." He paused. "I only know that I can never be friends with him again. I hate him Hermione. Every time I think about him, I can see Ginny the way she looked before she died; and it kills me," Ron finished quietly, staring off into the distance but not really seeing anything.

Hermione, hearing the hurt in his voice, turned around and wrapped her arms around his chest. Ron, in turn, circled his arms around her, letting her head rest near his shoulders. They sat like this for a few minutes before Hermione interrupted the silence. "Ron?" she asked.

"Mm-hmm?" asked Ron, who was now feeling very comfortable.

"I really want Harry to be at our wedding." As soon as the words had escaped her lips, Hermione felt Ron's arms stiffen. He released her, and holding her at arm's distance, he studied her face. After a moment of silence, during which his mind seemed to be working a million miles an hour, he spoke.

"He can come. But he won't be my best man. And I won't speak to him." With that, Ron left the house, and Hermione did not see him until dinner that night.

* * *

One hour after Hermione had left his office, Harry finally regained his composure and forced himself to answer some of the Interdepartmental memos flying around his ceiling. He didn't have the chance to answer more than one, however, because at that moment Hedwig flew in through his window with a howler. Staring at the howler in surprise as Hedwig dropped it into his hands, Harry watched as it began to smoke and threatened to explode. He opened it quickly and listened as the voice of Officer Bradley, from the Improper Use of Magic Office, echoed from the parchment. "Sir! We have a problem in Knockturn Alley. There's been a robbery at Borgin and Burkes! The whole shop's been cleaned out!" exclaimed Officer Bradley's panicked voice.

Harry frowned. Robberies usually were not reason enough to contact auror headquarters. He could see why Officer Bradley had alerted him in this circumstance though. Borgin and Burkes was notorious for selling dark objects of every kind. _The whole shop was cleaned out?_ Harry sighed. It was a good thing he had decided to come in on a Saturday. He grabbed his cloak, left his office, and started to run towards the lifts.

Harry had gone through auror training seven years ago. Voldemort had been at the height of his reign then and Harry's training had been a shortened one. After Ginny's death and his fallout with Ron, he came to work for the ministry permanently and withdrew from almost everyone. These days, all Harry really lived for was his work.

Harry disapparated out of the atrium and apparated again in front of a brick wall, one that was invisible to the world's muggle population. After Harry had quickly done a series of complicated wand movements over the bricks, the wall sprang apart to reveal a bustling and cheerful street that was Diagon Alley. Harry walked through it but did not enter any of the shops along the sides. He instead turned onto a street labeled Knockturn Alley. Taking only a few more steps, Harry walked into Borgin and Burkes to find a small group of officers surrounding the owner of the store, a man named Borgin. Looking around, Harry could see that the store had indeed been 'cleaned out'. Turning to Borgin, he asked, "What happened?"

Borgin, who looked rather shook up, replied, "I was in the back, getting out some—er--boxes, when I heard someone walk into the store. I was coming out to ask if they needed any help when I saw a blinding flash of green light. Next thing I knew I was on the floor being woken up by these officers."

"Stupefied," Harry said with a nod of comprehension. "Is there anything they didn't take?"

"Nothing—I've lost everything," said Borgin miserably. Harry nodded and proceeded to walk around the shop. Having been to the store a couple times before, he knew of the odd and disturbing objects it tended to carry. As he inspected the shelves, however, one thing in particular caught his eye. On a ledge high above eye level, there stood an empty compartment labeled _The Elixir of Life._ Harry's eyebrows narrowed.

"The Elixir of Life? The Sorcerer's Stone was destroyed years ago. Where did you get this from?" he asked Borgin suspiciously.

"I don't know where it is originally from, sir. We buy items from a lot of different people. This particular item was brought in by a man just last week, sir," said Borgin in a guilty voice.

"What did the man look like?"

Borgin stuttered, "Er—I don't know sir. His face was covered with a cloak. He sold it for a small sum and seemed eager to get rid of it."

Harry frowned again. Dumbledore himself had told him that the Sorcerer's Stone had been destroyed at the end of his first year at Hogwarts. _Where could this mysterious person have gotten the Elixir?_ His thoughts were interrupted by the voice of the officer who had sent him the howler.

"Sir, we found something!" exclaimed the officer from the other side of the shop.

"What is it?" asked Harry, walking over to him. He received his answer before the officer could say anything.

Etched on the wall was an S-shaped snake engulfed in a red flame.

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**A/N: I know Ron's job is a little random, but honestly I can't even imagine him ever having a job. And don't worry, you'll find out more about the past as the story progresses (hmm kind of ironic).**


	3. Hogwarts and the BendersofFire

**A/N: I know it's been a while since I've updated but I was guilt tripped into doing some serious studying. I almost abandoned the story but I couldn't make myself do it. Hope you guys like it. Read and review please!**

**Disclaimer: If you think I own Harry Potter, you might want to consider admitting yourself at the nearest insane asylum. I own nothing but the occasional character/spell/term that you've never heard before.**

* * *

Harry grazed his fingers over the symbol on the wall. He had never seen anything like it before. _What is this? The snake reminds me of the Slytherin symbol but I have no idea what the flames are for. Maybe Malfoy will know something._

* * *

Draco Malfoy sat at his desk at Auror headquarters, pouring over a report about a muggle attack somewhere in Devonshire. The report was giving him a headache. Deciding to take a break, he leaned back in his chair and looked around the room. It was a well-kept office; there were no parchments out of place, nor were there any pictures of family like the ones that were found in most of the Ministry offices. Overall, the room was rather bland and unexpressive. There was nothing about it that suggested anything about Malfoy's past. Nothing that told of his initiation as a Death Eater. Nothing that betrayed his attempt to kill Dumbledore. And nothing that spoke of his cowardice in doing so and his turn to the good side. Malfoy rubbed his aching temples for a minute before going back to the parchment in front of him.

After Dumbledore's death, Malfoy had soon realized that although he was considered quite evil by his fellow students at Hogwarts, he was far from being evil enough to kill innocent people. He had given up his loyalty to the Dark Lord and volunteered to work for the Order. He was met with hostility by most its members, Ron included. Harry, however, had not forgotten the night of Dumbledore's death and Malfoy's reluctance in killing the headmaster. He had accepted Malfoy as an ally, if a little warily, and the rest of the Order had followed suit. The heads of the Order had been able to provide him with protection against Voldemort's wrath. He had undergone Auror training with Harry and had been working for the Ministry ever since.

After he had finally finished reading the report, Malfoy quickly sent an Interdepartmental Memo to the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office and started to pack up his things to go home. Looking around to see if he had forgotten anything, he promptly let out a loud yelp. Sitting in his fireplace was Harry's head.

"Potter," growled Malfoy, trying to bring his heart rate back down to normal.

"My apologies Malfoy, I didn't realize you scare so easily," said Harry's head, smirking.

"Are you going to tell me what you want Potter or am I going to have to stare at your ugly head all day?" Malfoy snapped.

The grin on Harry's face vanished quickly. "There's been a robbery at Borgin and Burkes. The robbers left something –er—strange. Could you come take a look at it?"

Malfoy groaned. "It's a bloody Saturday Potter. Can't you manage anything without me?"

Harry chose to ignore his last comment. "Just get down here as soon as possible."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming. Don't get your underpants all in a knot."

With that, Harry's head vanished from the fire. Grumbling to himself, Malfoy got his cloak from the hook behind his office door and proceeded to walk toward the lifts.

Malfoy arrived at Borgin and Burkes in time to see Harry drawing a replica of the symbol on a piece of parchment. "I'm afraid your artistic skills are rather lacking, Potter," spoke Malfoy. Harry and the officers, who had all been watching him draw, jumped at the sound of Malfoy's voice. Borgin glared at Malfoy coldly. It was no secret among former Death Eaters that he had abandoned the Dark Lord at his finest hour.

"Ah, Malfoy, I'm glad you're here. Come take a look at this, will you?" said Harry.

Malfoy pushed Harry aside and walked past him to look at the symbol etched on the wall. His eyebrows narrowed as he studied the snake in its flames. "The snake is—"

"like the Slytherin symbol, I know," said Harry, nodding and ignoring Malfoy's glare at his interruption. "It's the flames I can't figure out."

"The flames are a symbol of the Benders-of-Fire," Malfoy said, in a rather matter-of-fact manner. Seeing the blank look on Harry's face, however, he said, "I guess you wouldn't know. The term is fairly common in pureblood society." He proceeded to look very smug at this point. _Ha! I know something Potter doesn't._

Harry, who was starting to get annoyed, said, "Well, would you like to share it with the class Malfoy?"

"I'm sorry but I don't seem to have brought enough for everyone," said Malfoy, smirking at his own joke. Seeing that Harry wasn't looking too amused, he continued, "Basically, Benders-of-Fire have extraordinary ability dealing with fire."

"A little more explanation would be nice Malfoy."

Malfoy shrugged his shoulders. "It's not a very common ability. It lets them control fire. They can produce flames wherever and whenever they want and—"

Harry interrupted, "So, what's the big deal? Anyone can do that. You just use the _incendio_ spell."

"Well if you would stop interrupting, Potter, I'd be able to tell you. They can do it without a wand. Benders-of-Fire can control fire with just their minds."

"Without a wand? Wow." Harry paused. "It's a common term in pureblood society, you said?" Malfoy nodded. "Why?"

"Because you have to be a pureblood to be a Bender-of-Fire. Something about the collection of magic in your blood being strong enough, blah blah blah," said Malfoy, shrugging again. "I don't really know the details."

"Hmm. So, these 'Benders-of Fire'; are they good or evil?"

Malfoy snorted. "The whole world isn't divided with a clear cut line into good and evil, Potter. You should know that. For example, you're a Parselmouth and so was the Dark Lord. You're good and he was evil. Fire bending's the same way. There are some Benders-of-Fire who are evil and some who are good. Obviously the ones who did this," said Malfoy, waving his hand across the store to indicate the robbery, "aren't good."

Harry turned his attention back towards the symbol on the wall. "Their symbol is just the flames? Not the snake?"

"Yeah, just the flames. The snake must be the creation of whoever made the imprint on the wall."

"And there's nowhere else you've seen this symbol?"

"No, only when associated with the Benders-of-Fire."

Harry nodded. "Well, I guess we'll go from there. Let me just finish sketching a copy of this."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "You do realize there's an easier way, don't you? _Duplicato!_" he said, waving his wand at the symbol on the wall. Suddenly, an exact replica of the imprint appeared on the parchment in Harry's hand.

"Oh yeah, I forgot about that spell," said Harry, grinning sheepishly.

"Honestly, Potter, sometimes you act like a complete muggle," said Malfoy, rolling his eyes again and taking the parchment from Harry.

Harry, quickly recovering from his embarrassment, turned to Borgin and said, "We will let you know as soon as we know who robbed your store Mr. Borgin. The officers here will tell you about your compensation from the Ministry."

"Thank-you, sir," said Borgin, bringing a forced smile to his lips. _Compensation, indeed. I pay every month for that bloody compensation and it'll still only cover half the money I've lost. And I spent so much on that damn new shipment of concentrated veritaserum._

Harry placed a comforting hand on Borgin's shoulder and turned to Officer Bradley. "Please let me know if you find anything else, Bradley," he said.

"I shall floo you immediately, sir," said Bradley, firmly shaking the hand Harry offered to him.

As Harry and Malfoy walked out of the store, Malfoy made a face of utmost disgust. "I _shall floo you immediately, sir_," he.mocked in a high pitched voice. "Bloody hell, Potter, when will they stop treating you like a damn celebrity? Acting like bloody house elves," he grumbled.

* * *

"Beep, beep, beep!" Hermione groaned and tapped her wand, which had been emitting a high pitched beeping noise for the past three minutes. The sound stopped immediately. She glanced at the clock on her wall to check the time. _Only 6:30? Great, I can sleep a couple more hours._ Then she remembered it was Monday.

Hermione was not usually one to complain about having to wake up in the morning. Most days, she got up happily and got in a little light reading before the sun had even risen. Last night, however, Ron had held her hostage, and she hadn't gotten back to her bed at Hogwarts until three o'clock that morning.

As her wand started beeping for the second time that morning, Hermione sighed and forced herself to get out of bed. She proceeded to get into the shower for thirty minutes, fifteen of which were spent asleep with her head rested against the wall. She dried herself off and after quickly brewing up a hot cup of coffee, felt a little more awake. She then donned her teacher robes and hat, brushing her hair in the process. Fully dressed and ready, she checked her reflection in the mirror.

Hermione Granger had never been what you would call beautiful; not in the traditional sense anyway. She had small brown eyes that always seemed to be thinking, usually planning out the lesson for her next class. During her school years, her brown hair had always been a rather large mass of frizz. Now, however, she had gotten better at taming it with Sleekeazy's Hair Potion. Her teeth, which had formerly been rather large in the front, were now perfectly even and showed off beautifully when she smiled. There was a certain sophistication about her and she carried herself well.

Adjusting her hat, Hermione smiled at her reflection. It had taken her a long time to decide what she wanted to do with her life. She wasn't like Harry, who had been sure he either wanted to be an Auror or a professional quidditch player. In a way, she had been thankful that they had horcruxes to look for and the final battle to fight. It had let her avoid thinking about her future for a while, at least. She had felt like everyone knew what they wanted to do except for her. Then again, Ron probably had had less of a clue about what he wanted to do than she had. _Ron._ Hermione touched her engagement ring on her hand lovingly. When Hogwarts had reopened, Hermione had come to visit newly appointed Headmistress McGonagall and decided then and there that she wanted to stay. She loved Hogwarts and teaching there was a position that fit her perfectly.

Taking one last look at the mirror and deciding she was satisfied with her appearance, Hermione picked up her bag and made her way to the Great Hall for breakfast. As she entered the Great Hall, Hermione took a moment to look at the ceiling above her. It was enchanted to look like the sky outside and today was promising to be a bright spring day. She smiled and started to walk past the house tables, occasionally saying hello to some of her students.

"Good morning, Professor!" said a voice that sounded far too excited for a Monday morning.

Hermione turned around and smiled when she saw who the speaker was. "Morning, Arthur. How are you?"

"Great! That is, now that I've seen you, Professor," Arthur replied with his most winning smile. Hermione couldn't help but laugh. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Arthur was Fred Weasley's son. Arthur's mother, Angelina, may have given him her beautiful mahogany skin but what lay underneath the skin was definitely inherited from his father. Arthur was a very unique looking child; he had the Weasley red hair that clashed rather horribly with his dark skin. He was as mischievous as his father and uncle had been at Hogwarts. No doubt he hadn't done his homework and was trying to make up for it by trying to kiss up to Hermione. _George would have loved to have seen his nephew. _She sighed. There had been far too many losses during the final battle. Her heart ached to think that the person who had always made everyone laugh would never laugh again.

Hermione's thoughts were interrupted as she realized she had reached the head table. She gave Headmistress McGonagall a smile and sat down next to Cassandra Hillock, who had taken up the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher that year.

"Good morning Hermione. How are you?" Cassandra asked warmly.

"Exhausted and wanting to go back to bed. I'd like to kill whoever invented Mondays," said Hermione, as she laid her head down on the table.

Cassandra laughed. "What's wrong with you today? You're always the one who lectures me about how starting the week bright and early is the best way to 'discipline the mind and body'."

"Well, that was before Ron decided to deprive me of my sleep."

"Oh, now I see why you're so tired," she said with a wink. Cassandra Hillock was -- in a word -- charming. Her long blond hair seemed to have a life of its own and circled her face caressingly. She had enchanting green eyes that echoed the laugh that came from her mouth. One dimpled smile from her was enough to make all the men in a fifty mile radius melt. Her voice was smooth and pleasing; it sounded like music when she spoke. She was twenty three years old, but the way she acted sometimes made it seem like she couldn't possibly be a day over fourteen. She was stubborn to a fault and was likely to throw a fit if things didn't go the way she wanted. But somehow her childish antics made her all the more endearing. Although they were complete opposites, she and Hermione had become fast friends when she'd joined Hogwarts to teach. To this day, Hermione couldn't understand how and why Cassandra taught such a serious subject as Defense Against the Dark Arts; though it did rather amuse her to know that the most of the boys in Cassandra's classes had crushes on her.

"_Well_, I have some exciting news for you," said Hermione, saying nothing more because she knew it would drive Cassandra crazy.

Cassandra waited for Hermione to continue. When it seemed like she was going to do no such thing, Cassandra raised her eyebrows impatiently and said, "_Well?_ Are you going to tell me what it is or not?"

Hermione made a great show of deciding whether or not she should tell her. "I don't know. I mean this type of news shouldn't just be told to anyone; especially not to someone who has a big mouth," she said, looking at Cassandra accusingly.

"I don't have a big mouth! Oh Hermione, please tell me! I'm dying of curiosity!" Cassandra pleaded.

"Are you sure you won't tell anyone?"

"Of course I won't tell anyone! Please, tell me!"

"Do you promise not to tell anyone at all?" asked Hermione, smiling inwardly as she watched Cassandra hesitate before she spoke again.

"Promise? But Hermione, you know if it's something big, I just _have_ to tell someone."

"Well, I guess you'll just _have_ to live without knowing then," Hermione said matter-of-factly, turning away from Cassandra and helping herself to some eggs and pancakes. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Cassandra playing a mental tug-of-war. She could almost picture the screws turning in her head. Finally, Cassandra seemed to come to a decision.

"Ok, I promise I won't tell anyone," she said in a voice that suggested she was about to walk off a plank.

"Alright, I'll stop torturing you. The news is that Ron proposed Friday night. We're getting married," she finished with a blush.

"OH MY GOD!" screamed Cassandra so loudly that the entire Great Hall stopped eating to look at her. "Er—I thought I saw a mouse," she said, giving a charming smile that caused everyone to accept her explanation and return to their food. Turning her attention back to Hermione, she said, "I can't believe it. Congrats, 'Mione! I'm so happy for you." She gave her a big hug and caught a glimpse of Professor McGonagall glaring angrily in her direction. It was outbursts like these that made the headmistress wonder what she had been thinking when she had hired Cassandra. When Hermione and Cassandra separated, Hermione held out her hand to show Cassandra her ring.

"It's beautiful!" squealed Cassandra. "Well, I'm glad Ron can do something right, at least."

"Hey!" protested Hermione.

"Just kidding, just kidding," Cassandra assured her. _Well, kind of._ She had never completely approved of Ron. He was a nice guy and all but he wasn't exactly the tall, dark, and handsome type. He had the tall part down but the rest was rather lacking. Still, it wasn't as though Cassandra was the one marrying him. Cassandra had been with a lot of men in her lifetime but she had yet to meet her Prince Charming. She smiled at Hermione and felt a genuine gladness for her friend's happiness. "So, who gets to be the maid-of-honor?" she asked, innocently pointing a finger towards herself.

Hermione laughed. "Of course you'll be my maid-of-honor."

The bell rang suddenly and the two friends' discussion about wedding plans was interrupted. The Great Hall immediately erupted into a mass of teachers and students scurrying to their classrooms. Hermione, taking one last look at the ceiling, resigned herself to another long week.

* * *

The following evening, several miles away, Harry and Malfoy arrived in a small village. They walked down one street and turned down a couple more, all of which held houses with broken windows and peeling paint. When they had apparently reached their destination, Harry took out a Put-Outer from his cloak and swiftly turned off all of the street lamps. He then pulled out a sheet of parchment and held it out so both he and Malfoy could see it.

"Read it and memorize," said Harry.

_The noble and most ancient house of Black may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London._


End file.
